


It's Just Like Space Camp

by headfirstfrhalos



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Astronauts, Gen, In which Josh goes to space camp and it's all downhill from there, In which Tyler is confused and scared about everything but follows Josh downhill anyway, Kid Fic, M/M, POV Tyler Joseph, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 09:36:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14974361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/headfirstfrhalos/pseuds/headfirstfrhalos
Summary: Tyler couldn’t care less about space. Anything more complicated than the Solar System made his head spin. Which was why he didn’t belong at space camp, but he followed Josh there anyway.





	It's Just Like Space Camp

Tyler couldn’t care less about space. To him, it was just the sun, the moon, and the stars, all chasing each other around the sky in never-ending circles. They were all pretty to look at, responsible for his tan and golden sunsets and lightning bugs (was that what stars were?), but not much else. Anything more complicated than the Solar System made his head spin. Which was why he didn’t belong at space camp.

But Tyler didn’t want to spend the whole summer without Josh, so he begged his mom to go.

They first go to space camp a few months after Josh turns ten (Tyler  is still nine and a half, but he’s tall and Josh never  teased him). Tyler doesn’t understand any of it--  the Alabama heat, the nerdy-looking camp counselors, the strange white  structures that he suspects are space ships or replicas thereof but  might just be strange buildings. He wants to be riding his bike around  the block with Josh, swimming in the nasty old creek with his brothers,  or eating rocket pops on the porch with his sister, but instead, he’s here.  At dumb, weird, space camp.

There are only two upsides to being here. The first is that he’s safely away from his siblings when they gang up on him and push him into the creek or occupy his tree house. The second and more worthwhile blessing is that Josh is happy. There’s something about the cosmos-- black holes, supernovae, the possibility of _alien life_ \-- that Josh sees but Tyler can’t. (He means this both literally and figuratively; Tyler never figured out the telescope), If Josh is happy, then so is Tyler.

Sleep schedules aren’t so strict at this camp, as is the way of astronomers, and Josh brought a flashlight with him so he could safely crawl over to Tyler’s own bed without tripping over their shoes. The light is a dim yellow so it doesn’t burn into their eyes or disturb the other campers as they snored in their beds, but it’s still bright enough to be functional. They like to curl up onto their sides, facing each other, the light nestled between them and making the pillow glow.

He’s not really sure what Josh aims to do when he tells him about what they saw that day; he’s not a very good teacher and he tends to fall asleep halfway through his lectures on astronauts’ uniforms or rocket fuel. But he knows Josh is excited. And it’s nice to have him all to himself when they’re constantly surrounded by counselors and other kids. So he listens while Josh goes on and on about things he was already there to hear.

(Tyler corrects himself about his list of upsides on the last day: the greatest boon of all is astronaut ice cream. It’s dusty and crumbly and sweet and it’s the best thing that has ever gone into his mouth.)

* * *

 

Fast forward a decade. They had not deliberately planned to go to the same college. There was no point: their friendship was either strong enough to survive the separation or not. But it just so happened that their top choice of school had been the same, and it just so happened that they both got accepted to said school, and it just so happened that they both decided to enroll. Why not?

Josh is a biology major. Tyler is an English major. Then he’s a history major, then back to an English major, and then a philosophy major, and then a math major. He sticks with the math. He’s prone to overthinking and anxious meticulousness-- the perfect personality for a mathematician.

* * *

 

Fast forward four years. Tyler wants a Master’s. Josh has finished college and signed up for the Air Force.

It’s not for reasons one would expect of a young American man. No, Josh is joining the Air Force because he wants to be an astronaut. Of course he does. A light went on in his eyes when he first arrived at space camp and no amount of maturity could extinguish it, and now he’s actually getting it done. Tyler doesn’t know whether to worry or be happy for him. Josh is in excellent health and of an astonishingly clear mind, but the program is selective and Tyler doesn’t know what the disappointment will do to him if he’s turned away.

It’s funny-- he’s known Josh for his whole life and he still doesn’t know how Josh would react to deep failure and rejection. It seemed like the man was so confident in and attuned to his destiny that it was impossible for him to choose wrong. Tyler’s life, on the other hand, has been a disjointed lurch of fits and starts. He doesn’t even know what to _do_ with a math degree.

* * *

 

Fast forward four years more. Tyler is officially in charge of Josh's life. To clarify: Tyler is the Flight Dynamics Officer for Josh's mission. He sits behind his console along with about three dozen other people, watching the Barracuda I tear through the blue skies en route to the Moon.

(Barracuda. It's a poor name for a peace mission, Tyler thinks. The parties behind the last Cold War at least had the sense not to name their spacecraft after large, predatory fish.)

Tyler's heart pounds as Josh sounds off his stats into his earpiece, and he's not sure if his voice is shaking because of the ship’s vibration or because of fear. His finger slips on the com button as he reports back his angle of ascent, and his voice cracks when he assures Josh he's doing just fine.

"Hey, Tyler, don't worry about me. I'll bring you a moon rock--" he's cut off by turbulence-- "if you want one."

 _For peace!_ they said-- _for mankind!_

 _For a moon rock,_ he scoffs, though he does not sincerely deny this mission’s purpose.

He could abort the mission at any time. He could claim some sort of instability or malfunction and send Josh spiraling back down to Earth in an orange parachute, back into his arms (where he belonged). But he knows his place in this mission, in this war, in this universe. This is bigger than his own fear, bigger than Josh’s life.

He’ll watch Josh go. He’ll let Josh get him a moon rock.

 _It’s just like space camp,_ he tells himself (though he grits his teeth in fear), _it’s just like space camp._

Josh disappears into the outer atmosphere.

Fast forward two weeks. History has been made, treaties have been signed, and ticker tape darkens the skies. Josh has not stopped buzzing since his return to Earth.

Tyler has spent most of the last fortnight awake, in front of his console, advising Josh and his crew to readjust their course on the three-day journey to the Moon and the three-day journey back. He has received no glory for this, but he prefers it this way. He’s too tired for interviews and parades, and he's simply glad that the rest of the world is finally seeing Josh the way he does-- as a shining star.

It takes a few more days after Josh’s return before he’s allowed to come home-- checkups, wrapping up the mission, press conferences, all of that. Tyler waits at home, watching TV and imagining to himself what Josh is doing at that particular moment. It's been far too quiet without him for the last few weeks, and it feels like those stagnant summer days when they were young, when Josh was sick or on a trip with his family and couldn't hang out with Tyler.

* * *

 

Josh does finally come back, and spares Tyler the embarrassment of his attempts to wrap him in a bear hug by doing it first-- and he smells like space suit fabric and jet fuel and bad aftershave.

"Sorry I couldn't get you a space rock," Josh says, "they wouldn't let me take any."

Tyler hugs him tighter. He had stopped feeling real in Tyler's mind over the weeks, and his warm body reignited his faith. 

"I'm just glad you're alive," he says, "I don't need a stinkin' rock. Space is lame."

Tyler still doesn't like space-- if anything, he likes it even less after all the times it nearly killed Josh over the course of his mission. But he knows Josh does, and he knows he'd do it again any day, so he listens while Josh goes on and on about things he had already been there to hear.


End file.
